From the Bottom of the Well
by Evil Moogle Queen
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Samara felt? How she still feels? This is from her point of view, and if I give you nightmares, I've done my job! REVIEW!
1. Visions

From the Bottom of the Well  
Samara's Story  
  
They all deserve to die.  
I love my mommy, but not daddy. He loves the horses. Daddy should die, too. So I sent him the visions. I love and hate the horrifying expressions he makes in his sleep when I send him the dreams.  
Horses dying. Drowning. Going crazy. All of his dreams shattering. It made me so happy to know the nightmares he was having.  
The day I decided I had to kill mommy started like any other. I sat on my swing, unmoving.  
"Samara, come inside."  
I got to my feet and obidently went into our small home. Resisting my urge to hurt her, I looked up at Anna. She was a tall, intimidating woman who dressed in black and had hair that was almost as black as mine. "I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. She'll probably have to send me to the mainland, and that means that you'll have to live with daddy."  
"Why are you going to the doctor? What's wrong?"  
"You make me sick."  
I was taken aback. But not really. I had known something like this would happen. I had sent her visions, too. But now she needed to die.  
Thoughts exploded from my mind. Evil, twisted thoughts. Nice thoughts. I saw her spreading her arms and falling off the cliff by our house. I saw dead horses on the beach. Worms. Writhing, wriggling things. Dying things. Red water. Blood red water. Her dead body laying on the rocks, bleeding. Dead. It satisfied me for now.  
Anna clutched her forehead and gasped, closing her eyes. I turned on my heel and left for the barn. I don't like the horses either, because when I have to stay with daddy, he puts me in the barn and takes the ladder down. It's scary up there. I don't like it in the barn. The horses keep me up at night.  
I wanted to kill, to maim. Breezing past the horse stalls and making them whinny and tremble with a nameless fear, I scampered up the tall ladder.  
I didn't know why I felt that way. It was terrifying. I wanted to kill and hurt everyone, but I loved my mommy. I wanted to hurt her so badly, and I was sorry.  
But not really.  
Another spell came over me and I only saw a tree. A tree with red leaves that burned like fire. I sank to my knees on the hard wooden floor, grabbing at my forehead. When it subsided and I opened my tear-filled eyes, I noticed that there were marks, burns, in the floral wallpaper of this cell that daddy called my room. I realized that somehow I had burned it in there. I didn't know how I did these things. I thought of them and then they just..were.  
I got into my bed and stared at the ceiling. It would be that way for hours.  
I never sleep. 


	2. I'll Never Stop

From the Bottom of the Well  
Samara's Story  
  
Ch. 2  
  
Countless hours later, I was up, pacing my room. Pondering my powers. How could I see things that hadn't happened yet? It made no sense. I hated it.  
Kill. Kill them all.  
I shook my head quickly. I couldn't. Not yet, at least. And I couldn't physically do it.  
But I could make them do it for me.  
I crawled down the ladder. Daddy forgot to take it down. I gave the horses an icy stare and kept walking. I hated them. I hated everyone.  
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. What did hate mean again?  
Surveying the bleak, gray landscape of the house, I saw mommy leaving. "Wait!" I called out, rushing to her. She turned and seemed disgusted when she saw me. More horrible images boiled in my brain and were passed to her, even as I hugged her around the waist. "Don't leave me with daddy," I begged.  
"Oh, I won't. You're coming with me! It's you who needs to see a psychiatrist!" she snarled, grabbing my wrist.  
Another vision overcame me. It looked like someone struggling behind a black garbage bag. A box of disembodied fingers, still twitching. Even worse, a mouth with something that resembled an intesting being pulled out.  
Anna wrenched me after her, and I could see the terror on her face.  
A smile spread over my lips.  
It made me happy to see her so scared and alone. I reveled in it.  
When we reached the small cottage of the psychiatrist, the woman greeted us warmly. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked Anna, "Is Samara sick?"  
"In the head," Anna replied coldly. I looked down, pulling my wrist away from her.  
The woman ushered me into another room. I sat down, hugging my knees and trying to ignore the other child staring at me. I didn't know him personally, but I knew that his name was Darby. He bothered me. Finally, I turned and snapped, "Stop staring at me."  
Nothing.  
"Quit it!"  
His eyes remained fixed.  
Finally, I lost my temper. I heard almost a searing noise and then his arm was bleeding. He let out a small cry of shock and rushed for the bathroom. Didn't that feel so good, Samara? It feels wonderful to hurt, but better to kill.  
"Who are you?" I whispered, closing my eyes. The voice always came to me when I did something bad. I could never identify the owner, but it scared me. There was always no answer to my questions. Only a soft whirring noise.  
After an eternity, Anna came back out. "Get up. We're going to Eola County Psychiatric. Or, rather, YOU'RE going."  
"What?!" I shouted, rising to my feet.  
"Don't ask questions."  
Everyone will suffer.  
And then I realized who the voice was.  
  
Days had passed and I had not slept. They kept me in a small, confined space with nothing but a clock and a camera. Spying on me. Studying me.  
Finally, the doctor led me out.  
The sat me in a chair that I would soon grow to hate and hooked things up to my arm. The doctor, with his strange, monotonous voice, sat at a table with a camera next to him. I tried not to look at the camera, so I put my head slightly to one side and stared at a table leg.  
A click, and the camera was on.  
"This is patient number SM0015. Now, what's wrong with you? You must sleep sometime." I was silent. "Samara?" I didn't respond. "Well, then, Samara, tell me about these pictures. How did you make them?" he asked me, holding up the pictures I had 'made'. They were made out of the material used for x-ray photos. I didn't know how I made them. I focused on the table leg.  
"Samara?"  
"I..don't know. I see them in my head, and they just..are," I said softly. A millipede wound it's way up the table.  
"Now, don't lie to me, Samara. You can't lie to us if you want us to help you," he scolded me. I hated him. He never believed me. Kill him! Kill him, paint the place red with blood, kill.  
But I just asked, "Can I see my mommy?"  
"No, Samara. Not until we figure out what's wrong with you."  
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!  
"I love my mommy."  
"I know. You don't want to hurt her, do you, Samara?"  
"But I do," I hissed, glancing into his eyes with a piercing gaze like nails, "and I'm sorry."  
Which I was. I wasn't entirely lying.  
"That's why you're here, Samara. We want you to stop." "I'll never stop." I said. A very faint smile spread across my lips, and I looked back down to hide it. They'd never let me out if they saw. "Your mommy and daddy love you."  
"Not daddy," I whispered.  
"Your daddy loves you, Samara."  
I narrowed my eyes. "Daddy loves the horses." Filthy animals.  
"Don't say that."  
I went on, lost in my madness. And there, whatever that force inside me was took over. "But they don't know," I said, and there was a crazy type of laughter in my voice. I looked up and stared at the camera slowly. I saw the red light go out. 


	3. The Well

From the Bottom of the Well  
Samara's Story  
Ch. 3  
  
A/N: Thanks to the reviewer! I'm trying to put in some movie quotes to make it accurate. I know that Anna and Samara seem a little out of character,  
but please bear with me! It's kinda hard to get inside a twisted little girl's mind. ^_^; I hope this gets better.  
  
I found the well one clear afternoon. They had released me, because, apparently, I was okay. I was safe. That's what they think.but they don't know.  
I enjoyed staring down the well and guessing how far down it was.  
That was my demise.  
I was standing there, singing, one day. I was wearing the same old white dress. My funeral gown, as fate would have it.  
"It's beautiful, isn't it, Samara?"  
I almost jumped as I heard Anna. But my eyes just stared straight ahead. I heard the familiar whirring noise. Suddenly I had another vision. A ring of white in all black.  
Everyone will suffer.  
"It's so peaceful," Anna continued, moving towards me. "Everything will be like this very soon."  
I was confused. "Hu..."  
In what seemed like half a second, I couldn't see anything. All I could smell was black plastic. I shook my head frantically and waved my arms, and then slowed. I felt my strength waning. KILL! Anna whispered the final key to making me insane.  
"All I ever wanted was you."  
With that, she pushed my limp body into the well, the bag falling off on the way down.  
  
I felt water. Very cold water. Cold as my hatred.  
My eyes shot open and I kicked in whatever direction the surface was. Gasping for air, I looked around. The water was red. I felt my head and realized that I must have hit my head on the way down. Looking up, I saw the well lid closing.  
"MOMMY!"  
Nothing. And I saw the ring.  
Hanging my head, I suddenly felt rage teeming inside me. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL! I'LL NEVER STOP UNTIL I GET MY REVENGE!!" I screamed as loudly as possible. My mind was painted red with rage and whatever grip on sanity I had then was gone. "DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'M COMING FOR YOU, ANNA MORGAN! AND RICHARD MORGAN!" Trying to crawl out of the well, a fingernail was torn off. I was bleeding too much, but nothing mattered anymore. The rest of my nails soon followed. All of the visions I had suddenly surged together.  
I bent my head down. "But they don't know," I whispered, and laughed.  
Static.  
The ring.the whirring noise that haunted me for so long.  
They all surged together until I screamed in pain and held my head in my hands. I knew what I was doing at last. I had made a tape. Anyone who watched it would die.  
Just like you will, Samara.  
Just like you will, in seven days.  
  
The case I enjoyed most of all involved a woman named Rachel Keller, her ex-husband, Noah, and her son, Aidan. They tried to stop me. It was so much fun, playing this game with them! Rachel was looking for the answers after I had killed her neice, Katie, and made Katie's friend Becca go insane. Insane with fear. I still haunted Becca, haunted her subconcious and haunted her nightmares. Katie was also fun to play with. Especially since she meant something.  
I had a basic process to killing my victims. They would watch the tape. I would mess with their minds, more so if they didn't believe. And on the last day, at the exact time that they watched my tape, their television sets would flicker. Static. Water, just like the water in the well, would pour from the T.V.. And then, when they walked into the room, heart racing faster and faster, I appeared. And they died of fear.  
But I liked the little boy called Aidan. I showed things to him, I walked his dreams. I almost felt sorry for having to kill him and his mother.  
Almost.  
His mother, Rachel, was special, though. She almost understood me. She knew how I wanted to be heard. She saved herself and her son.  
And she freed me.  
But she has to show the tape to someone else, or she will not be spared for much longer. Nor her son. It is the curse that they now carry. Just like my curse.  
Who will you show it to? 


End file.
